plays on the radio, and the heater vents all point at me. Tammy’s profile shows a longer nose than my mom’s, thinner lips, a similar chin. The same small frame Mom carries too much weight on is more fitting on Tammy, her muscles toned and lean. Her skin is darker than Mom’s, too, evidence of time spent outside on desert bike rides and mountain walks under tree-scattered sunlight, and if I live to be Tammy’s age, I hope I look as fit as she does.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Tammy says.
“Really?”
“Really, Liz,” she says and looks at me. “I was excited when your mom called. I
am
excited.” Her long fingers grip the steering wheel. “You are one of my two favorite people on this planet,” she says. I smile but can’t hold it. I try to say thanks but my voice falters. I’ve never been anyone’s favorite anything before.
She glances at me sideways and pats my thigh. “Are you hungry?”
At her condo I watch her pull the fold-out bed from the green-and-red plaid couch in my new room, which used to be her office. She spreads out green sheets and then puts the blue comforter she picked out at Macy’s on top. “I thought you liked blue. Do you like blue?” she says. I nod. I’ve never owned anything from Macy’s or had anyone consider purchasing what I would like before what was on sale.
Tammy folds a wool throw at the foot of the bed. She smiles. “This blanket is older than you,” she says and smooths her tanned hands across the threads. “I used this to study late at night in college.” She pats the fabric. “Tucked over my feet on our lumpy couch.” I nod but don’t say any of the jumbled thoughts bombarding my brain:
Mom left me. I need to check on Jaime. Don’t get too comfortable here.
Tammy takes a hesitant breath and clears her throat. “Anything else I can do?” she says. I shake my head. All my clothes are still packed and I just want to curl into a ball under the covers. She rubs my back lightly, and her warm hands melt a little of the day’s strain from my muscles.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Sure thing,” Tammy says. She pats my shoulder and half-hugs me with just her right arm like I might shatter if she applies too much pressure. She leans back and smiles at me. “Make yourself at home,” she says, and I believe she means it. I already feel safer than at Gary and Carol’s, or Dad’s, or even Mom’s with Terrance there, and right now that is more than enough to be grateful for.
Before Tammy can move away, I grab her around the waist and push my face into her hard collarbone. Her back stiffens and for a fraction of a second I think she’s going to pull away, but when I whisper, “Thank you so much,” her athletic body relaxes and returns the hug full force like she was waiting for this chance.
Tammy squeezes me with both of her strong arms, and a tiny bit of me dares to hope that someone will finally take care of me, even if it’s not permanent. She kisses my forehead, and skims her hands along my shoulders. “No problem, little girl,” she says. “No problem at all.”
When she leaves the room, I slip on a pair of pajama pants and slide under the crisp sheets and comforter. Tammy’s welcome sprouted a kernel of optimism in my chest, and though Mom’s easy release of her daughters still smolders in my gut, I fall asleep with mountains outside my window and Tammy puttering about downstairs.
It’s cold in this city . So cold it’s past the point of being able to see my breath because the air is already white and heavy with freezing moisture. So cold my nose and feet are always numb and it’s quiet, too, like there’s water in my ears and everything sounds blurry. The snow drifts in spirals beyond Tammy’s windows, muffling the sounds of the outside, and inside, the chill that invaded my lungs from that first breath of frosty air in the parking lot of the airport burrows into my chest like a tick and spreads out until I worry my fingers might
“I’m glad you’re here,” Tammy says.
“Really?”
“Really, Liz,” she says and looks at me. “I was excited when your mom called. I
am
excited.” Her long fingers grip the steering wheel. “You are one of my two favorite people on this planet,” she says. I smile but can’t hold it. I try to say thanks but my voice falters. I’ve never been anyone’s favorite anything before.
She glances at me sideways and pats my thigh. “Are you hungry?”
At her condo I watch her pull the fold-out bed from the green-and-red plaid couch in my new room, which used to be her office. She spreads out green sheets and then puts the blue comforter she picked out at Macy’s on top. “I thought you liked blue. Do you like blue?” she says. I nod. I’ve never owned anything from Macy’s or had anyone consider purchasing what I would like before what was on sale.
Tammy folds a wool throw at the foot of the bed. She smiles. “This blanket is older than you,” she says and smooths her tanned hands across the threads. “I used this to study late at night in college.” She pats the fabric. “Tucked over my feet on our lumpy couch.” I nod but don’t say any of the jumbled thoughts bombarding my brain:
Mom left me. I need to check on Jaime. Don’t get too comfortable here.
Tammy takes a hesitant breath and clears her throat. “Anything else I can do?” she says. I shake my head. All my clothes are still packed and I just want to curl into a ball under the covers. She rubs my back lightly, and her warm hands melt a little of the day’s strain from my muscles.
“Thank you,” I say.
“Sure thing,” Tammy says. She pats my shoulder and half-hugs me with just her right arm like I might shatter if she applies too much pressure. She leans back and smiles at me. “Make yourself at home,” she says, and I believe she means it. I already feel safer than at Gary and Carol’s, or Dad’s, or even Mom’s with Terrance there, and right now that is more than enough to be grateful for.
Before Tammy can move away, I grab her around the waist and push my face into her hard collarbone. Her back stiffens and for a fraction of a second I think she’s going to pull away, but when I whisper, “Thank you so much,” her athletic body relaxes and returns the hug full force like she was waiting for this chance.
Tammy squeezes me with both of her strong arms, and a tiny bit of me dares to hope that someone will finally take care of me, even if it’s not permanent. She kisses my forehead, and skims her hands along my shoulders. “No problem, little girl,” she says. “No problem at all.”
When she leaves the room, I slip on a pair of pajama pants and slide under the crisp sheets and comforter. Tammy’s welcome sprouted a kernel of optimism in my chest, and though Mom’s easy release of her daughters still smolders in my gut, I fall asleep with mountains outside my window and Tammy puttering about downstairs.
It’s cold in this city . So cold it’s past the point of being able to see my breath because the air is already white and heavy with freezing moisture. So cold my nose and feet are always numb and it’s quiet, too, like there’s water in my ears and everything sounds blurry. The snow drifts in spirals beyond Tammy’s windows, muffling the sounds of the outside, and inside, the chill that invaded my lungs from that first breath of frosty air in the parking lot of the airport burrows into my chest like a tick and spreads out until I worry my fingers might
Similar Books
